


Suicide Sam

by Ya_Boi_Robbie



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parent, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Creepypasta, Cutting, Demon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay, Gay Parents, Haunting, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, ghost - Freeform, razor blade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ya_Boi_Robbie/pseuds/Ya_Boi_Robbie
Summary: A teenaged boy is struggling with his mental health after his only friends and rock in life is found dead in a ditch.Having struggled with self harm for a few years the boy considers suicide.In That very moment everything went to hellBecause in that moment Sam appeared, and they were going to have fun with this one





	1. Intro and meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This work include  
> -self harm  
> -suicide  
> -mentioned emotional neglect  
> -gore  
> -hospitals  
> -death  
> Please make sure you’re in a safe mindset before reading this work

They’re watching me as I write this. They never leave, not until you’re dead. I should probably start from the beginning, back before Sam showed up. 

A little over a year ago my best friend Seth went missing. The police said he was kidnapped by his abusive mom. A week into 11th grade, two months after his initial disappearance, his body was found in a ditch the next city over. Seth’s hands hung by threads of muscle and flesh, his skin was bloated like he had been sitting in water for months, and his head had been shot point blank 47 times. 

Seth was my only friend after both of my dads were killed in a hate crime and I was thrown into foster care. He stuck by me when I was diagnosed with anxiety and major depressive disorder. He helped me stop self harming when he found out. When Seth went missing I went back to old habits. My foster parents knew but they didn’t care enough to stop me or get me help. When Seth’s body was found I gave up on life, I started to consider suicide. Then Sam appeared. 

I was sitting in class, it was boring so my mind started to wander. Eventually my thoughts got dark as always. Normally I start thinking to ask the teacher for a bathroom pass to vent on my skin but today was even worse. For the first time I considered hanging myself that night.  
“If done right you can break your neck, but if you don’t give yourself enough space to fall you’ll only choke to death which is painfully long.” I thought that maybe I had said something out loud and someone responded to me. I looked around but not a single soul in the classroom was looking at me, some were asleep while others listened to the teacher drone on and on. I decided to pay attention to the teacher to try and keep my mind off of dark thoughts and whatever I heard.   
When lunch rolled around and I sat by the gym to eat the sandwich my foster mother packed. My train of thought had shifted back to maybe hanging myself when I heard the voice again.   
“You don’t want to use to thin of a rope or will just cut into your neck as you slowly choke or even begin to decapitate you if you’re high enough”  
It sounded feminine yet masculine, like a girl trying her best to sound like a dude or vice versa. I looked around and this time I saw a person, I couldn’t tell if it was a guy or a girl, Their head has massive hole on both sides. Their arms slashed with uncountable cuts that went down to the bone. Their neck look like it had been broken and stretched out again and again. Their legs were so broken, that they’d have to be amputated because the damage done to the bones was so intense, yet there they stood. In short, they looked dead thousand times over., but there was no blood. It scared me shitless. I couldn’t speak and I was scared it would attack me. I guess they saw the terror in my eyes and introduce themselves.   
“Hey, I’m Sam. They/them pronouns. I can tell my appearance is freaking you out. I can’t hurt you, physically anyway.”  
I was to scared to speak. ‘Maybe I was going insane? That had to be it! Ignore it and it’ll go away’ I thought starring into their eyes before closing mine and hoping with every bit of my being that they’d go away. When I opened my eyes they were gone again.   
I was in panic mode the rest of the day. Sam’s broken body was haunting me, whenever I closed my eyes all I could see was them.   
When I got back to the foster home I bee lined for the bathroom. My foster parents saw me, they knew exactly what I was doing, but they didn’t give a fuck. When I was finally in the bathroom I went through my little ritual; lock the bathroom door, grab the dark hand towel, grab the box out of my bag, and finally feel relief. The anxiety just oozed with the blood as the cuts kept piling up, crisscrossing my sides, arms, and chest. Patting away any blood that started to run so the foster family didn’t have any blood stains to bitch about.   
This was my little occult ritual that made life bearable. Maybe if I just went a little too deep, a little to close to an artery, a little too big, enough to end it all and I could be free.   
“Make sure it’s deep enough, you don’t want to be found do you? Don’t want to be stopped? Don’t want to become an even bigger bother?”  
Fuck.   
I was so wrapped up in the bliss that I forgot about them, even if that was the intention. The bliss is gone, replaced by pure fear. I turned around quickly, not thinking of the blade in my arm and opposite hand until I felt a deep searing pain in my arm.   
I went really fucking deep.   
Instead of the panic leaving with the blood, they almost seemed to replace each other. The more I bleed the higher the panic mounted before everything started to fade.   
After the adrenaline left with most of my blood it became peaceful. I couldn’t hear my normally loud foster siblings playing downstairs, I couldn’t feel the sticky blood I was sitting in, and I couldn’t see the door handle jiggling as if someone were trying to get in.  
I did see a pale, almost see though... something standing in front of me, almost admiring its work before I fell into the most peaceful sleep of my life.   
Woke up in the hospital with my head feeling fuzzy, probably from sedatives or something like that.  
‘To bad they didn’t accidentally give me too much’  
Right as I finish that thought I hear that voice again;  
“Oh! ODing! Gotta make sure it’s the right drug or you’ll end up on the ground screaming in agony instead of peacefully drifting off to sleep.”  
The drugs keep me from freaking out to badly this time. I look to where the voice came from, the chair beside my bed, and I see them again. There’s something different about Sam this time though, they don’t look as... dead. Gone were the hundreds of injuries, and in their place was two sets of bruises around the neck, a single long cut down the left forearm, and foam at the mouth. What was more disturbing is that they were wearing a hospital gown, just like me. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember what they were wearing the first time I saw them. My heart rate starts to climb, as singled by that heart rate thing I’m hooked to, I jerk up on the bed and look at them. They’re kind of opaque, like a ghost. Is Sam a ghost?   
I didn’t have time to dwell on the thought before a nurse came in to check on me. Damn loud beeping machine, I almost had the courage to ask them some questions but Sam vanished as soon as the nurse came in. After what seemed like hours of questions and poking from various doctors my foster dad was there to see me. I almost started to get excited.   
‘Did this scare finally remind him that I’m human? Is... he going to ask if I’m ok?’  
So I looked into his eyes; He wasn’t concerned or scared for me, more like he bothered by the fact he had to be there. “I don’t think you’re a good fit for me and my wife. I’ll put you in inpatient before I hand you back to your caseworker, I’ll leave your stuff with them too.” And out the door he went. Why did I even get my hopes up, I knew he didn’t care about me. I was nothing more then a bother to them anyway. I’d heard that line so many times before, so why does it hurt?

He kept to his promise about throwing me into in patient. I had to stay there for three weeks, even though it was only supposed to be a little over one. The hospital kept prolonging my stay every time I freaked out about “see things that weren’t there” when I was actually seeing Sam who I guess is summoned by suicidal thoughts. So on top of depression and anxiety I had psychosis and paranoid on my chart too, Great.   
When I was finally out of there with a whole new set of meds my caseworker was waiting to take me to my new foster home. They didn’t ask questions, but they did have a teddy bear for me when I came out. I’m proud to say that I appreciated it, fuck gender norms. “Amen to that man!” And there’s Sam again, guess it’s not just suicidal thoughts that summon them. A nothing this I was wrong about, as usual


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean lays awake in his new “home” as he takes a trip down memory lane. We also learn about a small thing Sam does to manipulate and punish the people they haunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a feel good chapter that explains Seth and Dean’s relationship in more detail

Here’s what I know  
My name is Dean Thomson, my best friend Seth Leggieri was found dead 4 months ago, and I’m being haunted by some ghost that encourages suicide and self harm called Sam. No one else can see or hear them but me.  
It’s been about a feel and a half since I got out of the hospital after a vent session gone wrong. I was placed in a boys’ home until my case worker found a foster family that would take me. People avoid me here, which is fine. It’s hard to believe that you can feel so lonely when you sleep in a room with five other kids your age. It’s easier to believe when you include the fact that they all avoid you.  
Sam has been staring at me all night. I’ve gotten used to their presence but I can’t figure out why they’re here.  
The cops found Seth’s mom and have arrested her. They found a ton of Seth’s personal belongings at her house, including a letter and package addressed to me. A cop dropped them off yesterday but I haven’t opened either of them. Sam hasn’t acknowledged them yet but I can tell they know what’s in there. I don’t know how but they do.  
1:32 am; that’s what the digital clock on the table says. The alarm goes off at 6:20 am every morning to wake us up for school and breakfast. It’s Saturday so I can just skip breakfast and chill in the room before I have to go to the psychiatrist. Maybe I can bring the stuff from Seth.  
“Oh my gods, stop being a wimp and open the box”  
And that’s Sam. They can hear my thoughts and responds to them. I used to always tell Seth ‘I wish you just know what I’m thinking. Words are hard and don’t even explain my actual thoughts half the time’ but know that I have someone that can it’s just annoying. Seth would help, encourage, and always be there for me. I can’t tell what Sam’s motives are. Sometimes Sam is a really nice person that will thrown in a dark joke when things get quiet, other time they’re an asshole that just wants you dead.  
But for once they’re right, I just have to open the box. I’ll open the letter at the appointment today but whatever is in the box was probably important.  
I grab the box out from under my bed, it’s a shoe box sealed with duck tape. Right on the duck tape is my name in gold metallic sharpie. Seth always lov-  
“Stop being sentimental and open the damn box”  
‘Fuck you Sam!’  
Last month’s events flash before me in crystal clear clarity.  
Blood everywhere, the door being slammed against, my foster dad screaming to open the door as I lose consciousness.  
Just as quick as it was there it was gone  
“Don’t tell me to fuck off Dean”  
‘Was that you?’  
“Yeah. So don’t disrespect me or I’ll make it even worse. Just open the box”  
I immediately start to peel the duck tape back quietly as possible. I’m not a coward but I don’t want to see that again. It was a mistake and no one will believe me. Once the duck tape is off I take the lid off.  
It’s... pictures and one of those old fashioned cameras; the kind that spits out the photo for you to shake.  
“Polaroid camera”  
Yeah, that kind. Anyways, all the pictures were face down. Picking them up slowly I turn the pile over. The one on top was a baby picture of me a Seth. I grab the camera a turn it over, on the bottom was a sticker reading “if found please return to Robbie and Preston Thomson at-“ I put the camera down on the bed gently. It was my dads’ camera, they loved Polaroids, but it went missing when-  
Oh...  
That bitch. Seth’s mom must have taken it the night she ruined her relationships with everyone. When she kidnapped Seth he must have found it in her house. She may have been abusive once Seth got older but she loved him back when he was Samantha. “Her precious little girl” she always called him. No wonder she kept the baby photos she as to lazy to take herself.  
I start shuffling through the pictures. Since our parents were friends me and Seth knew each other since birth so there’s plenty of pictures. Seth must have organized them by newest to oldest. I grab the last few pictures out of the pile.  
Homecoming dance. Me and Seth were in front of my house both wearing one of my suits. It was a little big for him but he’s was so happy. Written on the back was “best night of my life”  
Seth had come over to my place crying because his mom wanted him to wear a dress. He didn’t know why he hated dresses and being called a girl, but my dads told him about being transgender. That night he figured he was trans female to male. My dad gave him a haircut, my pa gave him a talk about what living as trans entails, while I got him a suit from my closet. He didn’t have a name yet so we called him Sammy. We had to tell his parents that something went wrong with his hair and we had to cut it off, Seth is good at faking tears too, and else even staged the same picture with the dress to keep them of his back.  
Next picture was taken a few months later. It was of us hugging at the local diner. My dad had bought him a binder and asked me to invite Seth to my place so he could give it to him. It made him so happy that pa decided to take us out to dinner to celebrate. Seth was trying out the name Jack at the time. Dad decided it was “a memory moment” and snapped the picture.  
The final picture was of Seth and his dad. Seth was holding up a piece of paper that said “I’ve found my name. Hello, I’m Seth, and I’m a man.” He had a black eye but the smile on his face drew any attention away from it.  
He had come out to his parents at dinner that night. His mom, who had always disagreed with my parent “partner ship”, turned out to be very transphobic. His dad had tried to protect Seth but he had been right next to his mom. They spent that night at our house and while scrolling through baby name websites he just clicked with the name Seth. It really suited him.  
His mom showed up that night. She barged in and was just going crazy. The camera went missing that night but Seth had kept the photos of the real him hidden.  
“You’re cryyyyyying”  
‘So?’  
“It’s annoying”  
‘I don’t care’  
It was 2:48 am now. I think as I start to put the photos and camera away before checking something. There was still film in it. I wonder- snap!  
“What the fuck man!”  
“Just testing something” I whisper as the camera spits out the picture. It seemed to take forever before it developed but when it did you could see the wall Sam was on and a bit of what looked like light where they were. Couldn’t see anything else. ‘To bad’ I thought as I put the camera with the photos before sticking it back under my bed and laying down to try and catch a few hours of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re having suicidal thoughts please contact someone. There are people that’s any to help if you’ll let them


End file.
